1
THE dining-room at Leaside was also Colonel Ogden's study. It contained,
in addition to the mahogany sideboard with ornamental brackets at the
back, the three-tier dumb waiter and the dining-table with chairs _en
suite_, a large roll-top desk much battered and ink-stained, and
bleached by the suns of many Indian summers. There was also a leather
arm-chair with a depression in the seat, a pipe-rack and some tins of
tobacco. All of which gave one to understand that the presence of the
master of the house brooded continually over the family meals and over
the room itself in the intervals between. And lest this should be
doubted, there was Colonel Ogden's photograph in uniform that hung over
the fireplace; an enlargement showing the colonel seated in a tent at
his writing-table, his native servant at his elbow. The colonel's face
looked sternly into the camera, his pen was poised for the final word,
authority personified. The smell of the colonel's pipes, past and
present, hung in the air, and together with the general suggestion of
food and newspapers, produced an odour that became the very spirit of
the room. In after years the children had only to close their eyes and
think of their father to recapture the smell of the dining-room at
Leaside.
Colonel Ogden looked at his watch; it was nine o'clock. He pushed back
his chair from the breakfast table, a signal for the family to have done
with eating.
He sank into his arm-chair with a sigh; he was fifty-five and somewhat
stout. His small, twinkling eyes scanned the columns of _The Times_ as
if in search of something to pounce on. Presently he had it.
"Mary."
"Yes, dear."
"Have you seen this advertisement of the Army and Navy?"
"Which one, dear?"
"The provision department. Surely we are paying more than this for
bacon?"
He extended the paper towards his wife; his hand shook a little, his
face became very slightly suffused. Mrs. Ogden glanced at the paper;
then she lied quickly.
"Oh, no, my love, ours is twopence cheaper."
"Oh!" said Colonel Ogden. "Kindly ring the bell."
Mrs. Ogden obeyed. She was a small woman, pale and pensive looking; her
neat hair, well netted, was touched with grey, her soft brown eyes were
large and appealing, but there were lines about her mouth that suggested
something different, irritable lines that drew the corners of the lips
down a little. The maid came in; Colonel Ogden smiled coldly. "The
grocer's book, please," he said.
Mrs. Ogden quailed; it was unfortunately the one day of all the seven
when the grocer's book would be in the house.
"What for, James?" she asked.
Colonel Ogden caught the nervous tremor in her voice, and his smile
deepened. He did not answer, and presently the servant returned book in
hand. Colonel Ogden took it, and with the precision born of long
practice turned up the required entry.
"Mary! Be good enough to examine this item."
She did so and was silent.
"If," said Colonel Ogden in a bitter voice, "if you took a little more
trouble, Mary, to consider my interests, if you took the trouble to
ascertain what we _are_ paying for things, there would be less for me to
worry about, less waste of money, less----" He gasped a little and
pressed his left side, glancing at his wife as he did so.
"Don't get excited, James, I beg; do remember your heart."
The colonel leant back in the chair. "I dislike unnecessary waste,
Mary."
"Yes, dear, of course. I wonder I didn't see that notice; I shall write
for some of their bacon to-day and countermand the piece from
Goodridge's. I'll go and do it now--or would you like me to give you
your tabloids?"
"Thanks, no," said the colonel briefly.
"Do the children disturb you? Shall they go upstairs?"